Epilogue
THE ENEMY WAS defeated.
The ard-rí sat safely on his throne.
Deidre had taken a long—very long—bath. Her friends who worked in her father’s castle hadn’t minded in the least procuring more and more hot water for her, and bathing had felt incredible, the heat, the cleanliness.
Now she lay on her pallet and wondered what would happen in the coming days.
Kylin had become a part of her life. Her dream life, her real life, in which they had fought so hard, leaned so desperately upon one another so that their land could still be theirs, this land they both loved so very much.
She was startled to hear a soft sigh and feel a glimmer of light around her.
Shimmering light . . .
The kind that came from the sword. She knew now that during her lifetime it remained with her. But . . .
“Ah, the human heart and soul are so very mysterious!”
Shimmer was sitting at the foot of the pallet, looking at her and shaking her head.
“Shimmer! You know that we’re so very grateful, all of us, we have retained—”
“And as I said, we accept your gratitude, and I warn you again that the coming centuries will bring new trials and tribulations to the island, that it might well be centuries before there is real peace. But now, while you live . . .” She broke off, waving a hand in the air.
“Magic! We can show you what is out there just beyond your touch . . . show you that all you need to do is reach. Alas! Lass, it is now for you to create the real magic that can happen in the world, that can happen for you.”
Just as quickly as she had come, Shimmer was gone.
For a moment, Deidre just lay there.
Then she knew that she didn’t dare take the time to think.
She rose and moved swiftly to her door where she hesitated a minute. She took a deep breath. It was time to know if what she felt might be reciprocated.
It was time to take a chance. He couldn’t do so, she knew. He was too schooled in all the things that were proper for a warrior where a woman was concerned.
And so, at last, she opened her door and slipped into the hallway. It was late, and the castle was quiet.
She knew which room he had been given. Her father had told her.
She smiled slightly, wondering if Eamon had mentioned it for precisely this reason. Eamon was extremely fond of Kylin, she knew.
And she knew that her father had always been serious: her life was her choice.
This was her choice.
She hurried on down the hall and hesitated just a minute before knocking on his door.
The events of the past days went streaming by in her mind. The battle, the aftermath, the time they had spent with the cauldron, learning that the stone was more than a weapon, that in the cauldron it could make healing waters last and last . . .
The feel of his fingers on her face had been real.
“Come in,” he said.
She opened the door and walked into his quarters.
The room was large, one where their most esteemed guests were housed. His pallet was equally large, something that made great sense since many of their guests were large men, such as Kylin.
He had been leaning back on his pallet, blankets pulled waist-high, his fingers laced behind his head as if he’d been lying there awake, staring at the ceiling.
He bolted up to a sitting position as he saw her, frowning instantly. He started to rise but then hesitated, and she smiled.
He had to be naked beneath the covers.
“Deidre, is everything all right? Has something happened, has someone been hurt?”
She walked over to the pallet and shook her head.
“Nothing has happened. Everyone is fine. It’s just that, after all this . . . well, do you believe in magic?” she asked him.
He laughed softly, still staring at her so curiously. “Well, our survival has depended largely on what I believe to be magic, so . . .”
She sat on his pallet in such a position that his arms were almost around her.
“There is magic,” she told him.
“I know, I just said—”
“Nay, not that magic! A different kind of magic. Real magic, I guess you’d say.”
“I’m, um, still a little lost,” he whispered.
She smiled. “A warrior such as yourself, lost?” she teased. “Kylin, I had a dream—”
He started, arching a brow. “I had a dream!”
“About you.”
“Aye, about you!”
“Well,” she murmured, daring to take a finger and run it along the line of his naked chest, “a magical creature taught me about real magic. Real magic happens between a man and a woman when they bring their feelings together in . . . a dream. A dream that’s real.”
And still, I have this fear! This slight, slight fear that he doesn’t want me!
But it was quickly dispelled because he drew her into his arms, lifting her over himself to lay her by his side.
He propped himself up on an elbow for a second, looking down at her.
“There’s been this thing happening, happening deep inside me.
The longer we’ve been together, the stronger the feeling has grown.
And with all that was happening . . . I didn’t know.
I didn’t realize or admit even to myself that what was growing within me was love.
I love you, Deidre, daughter of the Rí Eamon.
I have lain in torture, wondering what my life would be without you in my day-to-day, talking, not talking . . . I dreamed of us together and—”
“I dreamed of us together! And neither did I dare admit what I was coming to feel! Kylin . . . magic is real, we know that. But the real magic is what we feel between us,” she whispered.
And that was it.
The dream began.
But so much better, real and magic all in one. Touching, stroking, seeing the light in his eyes, feeling the caress of his lips, his kiss, his tongue running over her flesh, and the magic of feeling his flesh, the fire of his desire, beneath her fingertips.
Kissing, stroking, loving . . .
And he, ever so gentle when needed, ever so urgent when she was ready . . .
Blending, soaring, becoming one.
There was no magic greater, not when she could admit the desire, the sensation and the love within her heart and soul.
Making love, and holding one another when it was over. Just feeling his arms around her. Knowing that they would sleep like this, now and for the rest of their lives.
The thing that touched her heart and soul with something greater than the sensations that touched her body . . .
That was magic.
SINCE THEIR “BETROTHAL” had already been announced, Deidre first spoke with her father. He was amused and she realized that he had seen her feelings long before she had expressed them.
While Aidan announced his betrothal to Maureen, Deidre announced that she and Kylin would be wed that day in the church after the celebrations of gratitude.
The ceremony was beautiful, and the wedding was joyous.
Incredible that after the fear and horror of recent battle, she was now surrounded by so many people who loved her—her father, her brother, Sigurd, Kylin’s sisters . . .
And she felt most loved by her husband, the tall, striking warrior. Kylin, the man who would be with her now and always, the one who would die for her and more . . .
And that night, as man and wife, they lay together again.
Shimmer had been right.
Being together with Kylin . . .
That was real magic.
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